


Bittersweet

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Implied Polyamorous Relationship, M/M, Other, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 07:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: Aside from the entirety of the crew, filming, and Vancouver itself, Jensen is going to miss this. He won’t get to have Misha all to himself at least once a week anymore. It’s not that they won’t see each other, but it won’t be as frequent. They’ll make it work, they always do, but it’s an ache he’ll have to live with.





	Bittersweet

Jensen is two whiskeys in when he hears Misha’s keys jingling at his front door. He’s on his feet, crossing the distance between them before Misha has the door closed behind him.

“Hey,” Misha says, smile bright and all teeth with that touch of softness just for Jensen.

He looks exhausted despite his smile, another long day of filming, but the last of the season. Jensen has never been happier to see him than he is right now. Jensen wrapped earlier today, and as the hours went on the overwhelming sense of melancholy of the past few days settled over him in a heavy haze. They had all made the decision to end Supernatural on season fifteen together. It was best for the three of them and for their families, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt like hell to let go.  

Jensen crowds Misha up against the door, grazes his fingers over Misha’s arms, up his shoulder, down his chest. He must look frantic, with the way Misha’s eyes widen ever so slightly at Jensen’s eagerness.

The bags in Misha’s hands drop to the ground with a thunk.

“Jensen, come here.”

He wraps an arm around Jensen’s waist and drags Jensen the rest of the way to him. Jensen goes slack in his arms and lets Misha hold him. He buries his face in the crook of Misha’s neck, breathes him in, and clings with shaking hands to the back of Misha’s leather jacket.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Jensen mumbles it against Misha’s skin, right above his collarbone. He feels Misha press a kiss into his hair.

“Me too.”

Jensen pulls back once his breathing has settled and he feels more in control. Misha has always been grounding, and even though he is the cause of some of Jensen's current emotional distress, having him here is more than the perfect remedy. Jensen kisses him, all sweetness and feels Misha sigh against his lips.

“Do you want a drink?” Jensen asks. He’s fighting back the tears brewing in his eyes, and swallows thick.

Misha takes one of Jensen’s hands in his, intertwines their fingers together and smiles.

“I’d love one.”

Misha leaves his bags at the door, and lets Jensen lead him into the kitchen, their hands joined the entire way. Jensen only lets go when he has to reach for the bottle and grab a tumbler down from the cupboard.

“Having a rough night?” Misha asks. He stays close, which Jensen is immensely grateful for, leaning up against the counter to watch him pour out two drinks.

“A bit. Just... thinking about everything, you know?” He slides the glass across the counter to Misha, and takes a generous sip of his own.

“Yeah, it was easy enough to distract myself when I was focusing on different scenes, but once we wrapped and everyone started packing up... it hit me,” Misha states. He’s staring down at his glass, swirling the liquid around.

Jensen doesn’t reply, doesn’t know how. Next year, everything will be different whether for better or worse. Wordlessly, he reaches out and takes Misha’s hand again, arches an eyebrow towards the living room. Misha nods and follows.

The city sparkles in front of them, lit up in the darkening night sky. Misha’s arm slips around Jensen’s shoulder the moment they sit down on the couch and Jensen scoots in closer on instinct and necessity. He curls into Misha, rests his head on Misha’s shoulder and focuses on the circles Misha is massaging into his side, right above the curve of his hip, with his fingers.

Aside from the entirety of the crew, filming, and Vancouver itself, Jensen is going to miss _this_. He won’t get to have Misha all to himself at least once a week anymore. It’s not that they won’t see each other, but it won’t be as frequent. They’ll make it work, they always do, but it’s an ache he’ll have to live with.

“Thanks for staying,” Jensen says, after awhile of just _being._ The whiskey is long gone now, the warmth of it flowing through him. They’ve gotten closer, Jensen half-lying on Misha, their arms loosely tangled around each other.

Misha huffs against the top of his hair. “You think I’d miss spending one last night up here with you for a few months? Hell no.”

“After next year, I’m gonna miss this. You and me, this place, and you staying over,” Jensen admits.

“We’ll just have to find a new place, somewhere in-between,” Misha says.

He sounds so logical, like it’s so easy. It will be once they figure out how this whole thing will work post-Supernatural, but until then they have this city for one more year.  
  
“Won’t be the same as Vancouver though.”

“Is anything?” Misha laughs.

“Nah, you’re right it’s always going to be special.”

Jensen starts thinking about all the moments they’ve made during the past eleven years together, so many firsts, playing like a slideshow through his head. He settles on one, early on, in a restaurant and starts giggling.

Misha mutters a confused, “What?” and shifts in Jensen’s arms.

“I’m still never forgiving you for our first date.”

Misha playfully slaps his thigh. “Hey, it was fun, and now you can tell everyone you’ve tried brains!”

Jensen rolls his eyes, remembering how despite the plethora of seasoning on the cow brains, the texture was disgusting. “The next time you tell me to try something new I’m saying no.”

“If that was true we wouldn’t be here now would we?” Misha says, proving his point by pressing a kiss to Jensen’s cheek.

Jensen rolls his eyes, and smiles, “I guess.”

Misha is right though, he usually is.

It’s enough to feel Misha breathe even and warm against his neck, being completely wrapped up with him. Jensen starts to drift, body finally relaxing, the stress of the last few days taking its toll. As much as he wants to stay just like this, he’s flying out early tomorrow and Misha is heading back home to Washington.

“Bed?” he murmurs, nuzzling the side of Misha’s neck. Misha puffs out a breath, and when Jensen pulls back slightly to look at him, Misha’s eyes are heavy with sleep.

“Mhmm,” he hums in response, a loose sleepy smile curving up his mouth.

Jensen, regretfully, untangles himself from Misha’s arms. He keeps touching him as he stands, drags a hand down the length of his arm until he reaches Misha’s hand. Jensen grabs his fingers, and tugs just a little. Misha sits up, blearily smiling up at him, and turns his hand until their fingers lock and they’re holding hands properly.

He kisses Jensen once he’s on his feet, short and sweet, punctuated at the end with a whispered, “Let’s go to bed.”

They stay connected the short distance to Jensen’s bedroom, fingers loosely twined together. Misha turns back to look at him once, a soft smirk playing on his lips, and Jensen knows despite their mutual tiredness they won’t be going to sleep right away. They never do.

Once they’re past the threshold, Misha doesn’t hesitate, turning around to grapple at the bottom of Jensen’s t-shirt with fumbling fingers, messily tugging it over Jensen’s head. They both start giggling when it catches on Jensen’s elbow and he stumbles a little. Misha steadies him, wide palms splayed on Jensen’s sides.

Misha pauses, just looks at him, full of heat and love that still manages to knock Jensen’s breath out of his lungs. He presses a kiss to Jensen’s cheek and tugs Jensen towards him and the bed.

They undress each other between kisses. Jensen can’t help the way his hands linger on Misha’s body while they kiss, caressing down his sides, tracing the curve of his shoulders. In bed, Misha hovers over him, sleepy hands wandering over each other, content to just touch, until Misha’s slips a thigh between Jensen’s legs. Jensen groans and arches into him, tightening the grip he has on Misha’s hips.

“What do you need?” Misha asks, voice thick with arousal. Their lips brush together when Misha’s speaks and Jensen chases his mouth, eager for more.

“Wanna feel you, Mish, don’t care how I just---”

Misha cuts him off with a kiss, bumping their noses together. He reaches up and strokes a gentle hand through Jensen’s hair.  “Kiss me, I got you.”

Jensen does, and sighs out a moan when Misha starts grinding against him. He lets himself go in the lazy fuck of their hips, grappling with fumbling hands to pull Misha as tight against him as he can. Jensen is losing it embarrassingly fast, so caught up in the heat of their bodies pressed together and how fucking good it always feels to have Misha on him.

Misha slips a hand between them, wraps it around both of their cocks and strokes them together. Jensen chokes out a moan when Misha’s thumb glides over his slit, gathering the pre-cum he finds there and drags it down on the next stroke. He’s getting close, can feel it in the way his nerve endings are on fire, and he’s aware of every single place Misha’s body is touching his.

“Come for me.” Misha says, voice barely above a whisper, and it’s the edge of desperation in his voice that finally pushes Jensen over the edge.

Misha kisses him through it, messily, and more like a slide of their lips together than an actual real kiss. Misha follows him a dozen seconds later, open-mouthed pressed into the curve of Jensen’s collarbone. They come down from the high together, trading slow, wet kisses as they both finally get their breath back.

Jensen isn’t sure he can move, but Misha, ever the gentleman he sometimes is, gets up and tosses him a towel from the bathroom. They clean up and Misha is back in bed a minute later, tangling his cold legs between Jensen’s. Misha scoots in close, faces Jensen, and loosely drapes an arm over his side. Their faces are a little over an inch apart and every time Misha breathes it tickles Jensen’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Jensen murmurs. He runs his fingers lazily up and down Misha’s side, tracing shapes and words against his skin.

“For what?”

“Staying.”

For once, he’s stunned Misha into silence. Misha smiles instead and squeezes Jensen’s side. Jensen moves closer, further intertwining his legs with Misha’s, and lets the haze of sleep finally take him.

* * *

Jensen wakes to the obnoxious ringing of his alarm coming from his nightstand. He groans and maneuvers himself as much as he can while still trapped in Misha’s arms to reach over and hit snooze. Blinking his eyes open, he is met with the dim blue light of pre-dawn that casts his curtains in an unearthly glow. It’s still early, and Misha’s warm nose is pressed into Jensen’s collar bone. He’s snoring softly against Jensen’s skin, arms wrapped loosely around Jensen’s waist, clinging to him even in sleep.

Jensen shifts in his arms, moving so they’re fitted together, and nuzzles into the top of Misha’s head. His alarm is going to go off again in another eight minutes, and he’ll have to get up then if he wants to catch his flight on time, but he relishes in these last few minutes of warmth and Misha.

When Jensen’s alarm goes off again, Misha stirs first, huffing against Jensen’s skin and squeezes him tighter.

“Hey, Mish.”

“Hmm.”

“I do actually need to get up.” Jensen pats the side of Misha’s cheek, looking down at him, and finds Misha frowning up at him adorably.

“Nope, you’re staying right here.”

Jensen sighs and half-heartedly rolls his eyes when Misha moves, half-climbing on top of him, and presses a soft kiss on the side of Jensen’s neck.

“So you’re not letting me leave?” Jensen teases, knowing full well how much they both don’t want to leave today. It’s not a long stretch, they’ll see each other this weekend for the convention in Vegas, but after the week they’ve had that seems like too long.

“Not yet.” Misha grins, bed head sticking up in a variety of directions on his head. He looks that perfect combination of messy and sexy that only Misha can accomplish, and it takes Jensen’s breath away. Jensen surges up to kiss him, morning breath be damned, captures Misha’s face between his hands and pulls Misha down to meet him.

He wants a continuation of the night before; wants Misha to take his time and open Jensen up nice and slow until he’s a shaking mess on the sheets. They’ll be here all day if he does, and Jensen only has two hours. It’ll give him something to look forward to for the upcoming weekend.

Jensen settles for a slow makeout session, the comforting weight of Misha on top of him, the gentle press of his hands on Jensen’s skin. It wakes him more effectively than any cup of coffee. Especially this morning how the sun lights up Misha’s cheeks, the curve of his nose, and makes his eyes sparkle when they finally open again to look down at Jensen.

Jensen’s phone chirps at him and Misha presses the most delicate kiss imaginable to the tip of Jensen’s nose. “Time’s up?”

“Guess so,” Jensen sighs. He’s not ready to say goodbye. Not yet.

He reaches up with an open palm, curving his hand around the back of Misha’s neck, dragging him down to him for one more kiss.

One turns into three, and by the time Jensen finally climbs out of bed, his hand loosely tangled with Misha’s, they have about thirty minutes before Clif gets here. Jensen isn’t making the best choices this morning, but sue him, he’s had a hard week. They all have.

They get dressed together, both running around half-crazy trying to get all their things together in time for Jensen to leave for the airport. Jensen puts on one of his Family Business hats, one of the three he carries with him, each a different color, just in case he’s having a bad hair day which today he is. He is focusing on re-folding some of his clothes when he feels Misha snatch it off his head.

“Hey!” Jensen says, turning around, about to grab it back, but pauses when when he sees Misha wearing it. There’s a mischievous smirk playing on his mouth, and he has an eyebrow cocked at Jensen, but that’s not what makes Jensen freeze. The hat looks _really,_ good on him, mostly because it’s almost exactly the same color as his eyes and makes the color pop. It’s also Jensen’s hat, from _his_ brewery, and the idea of Misha wearing it around when they’re separate makes his heart ache something awful in his chest.

“Keep it,” Jensen says.

“What?”

“It looks good on you, keep it.”

“You know, you keep giving me your clothes, people are gonna talk,” Misha says casually, but the pleased blush that spreads across his cheeks tells another story. Knowing him, Misha will probably wear it every day until they see each other again.

“Hold that thought,” Jensen says, and turns back around to his suitcase. He sifts through his stack of shirts until he finds one of his grey button ups. It’s one of his favorite shirts, he tends to wear it a lot at home whenever he wants something comfortable on. He can live without it for awhile.

“Take this too.” Jensen walks over to Misha and places the folded up shirt in his hand.

Misha’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion, “Okay, but why?”

“Give it back to me in Rome, when it smells like you.”

Misha glances down at the shirt, ghosts his fingers over the top of it, and smiles. When he looks up at Jensen again, his eyes are all watery, which immediately makes Jensen’s eyes all watery.

“You’re disgusting,” Misha says, grinning, shoving playfully at Jensen’s shoulder.

“Yep, but you love me.”

“That I do.”

Misha kisses him, all soft and lingers until they both need to separate for air.

“Thanks,” Misha murmurs, bumping their noses together. “I’ll wear it all the time, especially when I jerk off.”

“Hey now,” Jensen says, waggling a finger at him. “I didn’t say to ruin it.”

“Well, honestly, that would improve it.”

“If you get come stains on my shirt Misha, I swear to god.”

Misha grins, pats Jensen’s cheek and walks back over to put it into his bag, cradling the shirt firmly against his chest. He folds it into his bag places it right on top, right next to his AC/DC shirt.

Jensen doesn’t comment on that with anything but a sly smile, going back to hastily throwing his things into his bag, but he knows that to Misha this is something special and he intends to treat it as such.

Jensen’s phone pings right around the time Misha is pulling back, breathless from kissing him up against the front door. Their bags are piled next to them, waiting for this specific text, but even after Jensen reads that the text is in fact from Clif, he’s leaning back in to kiss Misha again.

“You’re going to miss your flight.” Misha says, pointedly.

“I could always catch another one.”

He considers it for about half a second, but thinks of the rest of his family at home, and Misha’s family. They’re all waiting for them to come back home. The ache in his chest that longs to see them is stronger than his want to stay. That’s the trouble with loving, sometimes it hurts even when it doesn’t have to.

“Jensen.”

“Yeah, I know, let’s go.”

Misha takes his hand once they’re out Jensen’s door. He tangles their fingers together and stays that way all the way down the elevator, only separating once they step outside the building. It’s a comfort Jensen didn’t know he needed right then, but Misha’s always been good at knowing exactly what he needs.

Jensen feels Misha’s eyes on him as he tosses his things into the backseat and climbs into the passenger seat. Misha waves at Clif and steps up close to the car, resting his hands on the edge of the door.

“Text me when you land,” Misha says, and offers Jensen a half-smile, genuine, but Jensen isn’t blind to the melancholy echoed in his eyes.

Jensen smiles back and reaches up to fix the brim of the hat on Misha’s head. It’s crooked, a little off-center, just like him. “Text me when you get back to Bellingham.”

“I will.”

Jensen briefly glances around outside behind Misha’s head, noting all the windows and says, “Fuck it.”

He drags Misha in by the front of his shirt for a soft kiss, the barest press of their mouths together. It’s chaste for them, but this one is for goodbyes, it’s meant to linger.

“See you this weekend.” Jensen says.

Misha’s smile glows brighter than the sun halo’ing his head. “See you then.”

Jensen watches Misha wave goodbye, visible in the side mirror until Clif turns the corner and he’s out of sight.

“You need to stop anywhere before we head to YVR?” Clif asks, once they’re headed south on Granville.

“Nah, I’m good.”

The city shines like thousands of diamonds in the sunshine around him, windows reflecting the sun back at each other amplifying the light.  It’s the first real sun they’ve gotten this past week, mixed with shrouded clouds and rain. It feels fitting in the sense of new beginning, and briefly dims the bittersweet ache of, what may be the most monumental chapter of his life, ending.

It’s only a few months until they come back, until then Jensen will make do with the moments he gets to see Misha; on small trips throughout the summer, at conventions. And next year, they’ll make the most of every last day they get.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anastiels) hit me up if you too have emotions about SPN ending. <3
> 
> Happy JIB :)


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